FYI

Commander Thiwat is Type Thiwat - most powerful necromancer, also known as White Tiger - The Assassin

Chief Kirigun is Tharn Kirigun - most powerful wizard, also known as the Wolf. Prince of Galoddhikeera

Max is Tharn's brother. (Please read the Emperor's Sunflower)

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"Here, what I say goes, Commander Thiwat. If I say you are in patrolling duty then you better walk around the territory until I say to stop."

Type gives a curt nod.

"All disperse." Khabbas offhandedly says but then he adds. "Commander Thiwat stays."

Fuck!

There are smirks and wiggles of eyebrows as they pass by Type.

"Why are you being difficult?" Khabbas sounds tired and Type grinds his teeth.

Who is the one being difficult, huh?

"If you do not want to... you do not have to..." Khabbas continues. "I... I cannot go on like this, Type. So, I pushed you a bit too far but, you have to understand, I had my reasons."

Type gulps.

"We could be the..."

"We could be nothing, Khabbas. Nothing. Disaster was written all over this... this, whatever that was." Type understands he is tired too.

"A relationship! Ours was a relationship which you were not invested in as much I was!"

"Fine. There. A reason. Now let this go." Type wants some sleep.

"SEE! THIS IS WHAT I MEAN!!! You does not even want to talk! Huh! I apologized. I told you why... But no... you do not even care how I... what you make me feel but for the love of Ba... I cannot ignore my feelings like you can or 'oh so easily' let go of."

Type remains silent. He is only thinking of the ways he can get this over with.

He hates this part of... gah!

Type hates this.

Khabbas smirks self-depreciatingly. "Well to let go, you would have to hold it at least once, right? And you never did."

Type still remains silent and it steadily infuriates Khabbas.

He watches the vein popping out of the man in front of him and Type finally sighs.

"I told you before, several times. I am not fit for this. Look, whatever happened, happened. Just, let this go. I do not want you sad anymore but this petty power play is not..."

Lips swallow his next words and Type opens his mouth for more.

He hates this part too. He loves sex too much but whatever comes in between... he cannot deal with.

Shiya! How long has it been?!

But no... Type stops the kiss.

"No."

Khabbas does not listen. He never listens.

And that is the problem, right?

Type commands obedience and he hates when his words are ignored.

The lips are desperately dragging all over his face and slowly making down to his neck but Type now feels nothing.

"Khabbas, stop."

Type sighs leaning against the door as the man is unaware... more likely he does not care that Type is uninterested and tries so hard.

It ends the way it always ends!

Type pushes the man away and Khabbas roars.

"What is it this time??!!!"

"I do not want to do it." Type shrugs and tries to leave but Khabbas clutches his hand.

"Why not?!"

"Give it a rest, Khabbas. I am in patrolling duty if you haven't forgotten. I have to sleep before staying awake all night long."

"You do not call me Kabe anymore. It hurts."

"And it will hurt more if you drag this drama for long."

Type knows he has hit a nerve. So he simply rolls his eyes and leaves.

"I will make your life miserable, Type." Khabbas hisses at the retreating figure.

"You always do." Type rubs away his headache.

For a man who claims to be in love, Khabbas makes him feel miserable without even trying.

Khabbas can be sweet when he wants to. But what he 'wants' keeps on changing and he loses his goddamn mind when someone refuses to be part of his personal goals.

And Type refused without remorse.

Maybe it is just Type. He is a stubborn hard head for his own good.

As expected, Type does not get enough rest as Khabbas double schedules Type's duty routine but he is no quitter.

At least not yet.

He submits his official grievance, yawns, takes his weapons and assumes his position on the bald rock by the stream.

Carrying birth-givers and children are most vulnerable in his race. So he watches over them without intruding while they use the stream to bath, wash and... Type doesn't want to know.

Type gulps when a sweet teen boy winks at him and shows his wet chest down to the mark on his belly that declares he has a womb.

Too young... too young!

But dammit! He is gorgeous.

Given the situation of the necromancer population, the elders are lenient on the age of marital consent but Type is a man of his own terms.

Teens are easily swayed and the boy has no clear idea of what he is doing.

Type won't be able to give what that kid is truly seeking. Love, comfort, protection of a mate and may be even sire his children.

Type can give him a night of pleasure at most and that kid deserves more.

And he hates that sometimes the war he has, is with his own kind.

He glares and throws the knife at a man who comes sniffing for the vulnerable young; taking advantage of their emotional state of carrying a womb.

His knife embeds on the tree - right in front of the man's eyes - where he is hiding, leering at the bathing people.

"I do not miss. Next time it will be between your eyes, right in the middle. Shoo before I lose my patience."

The man runs away scared but Type flinches when wet but - thankfully clothed - hands wrap around his waist.

He unties the frail but elegant hands off before pinning the teen with a glare.

"If you have no plan to claim me, maybe you should let my other suitors have a taste." The teen bats his eyes and flicks the button on Type's collar with a pout.

Instead of seductive, the pout makes him look like an infant.

Type shakes his head.

"Tar, you are too young to seek out for a suitor." Type takes his knife off the tree. He has work to do.

"I am not! I am of sixteen lunar cycles!"

"You are confused between a suitor and a pervert because you are young. I know what you are going through. But this is not the way."

"Will you teach me the way?" Tar blinks, biting his lips and Type groans. He walked right into that one but there is only one answer.

"No."

"Fine then! I am going to find Garthope. He says my voice makes him hard."

Type shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "After the Pivot Point 57, you can do whatever you want. Jyuvung is in charge there. I do not want paper works."

Tar's eyes dim and his eyes fill up but like any other teen, he sniffs and stomps in the way of danger, into the thick forest, looking for the pervert.

Type scolds himself and his wayward tongue.

Why does he always do that?

Tar's voice makes that pervert hard because it is one of the places Tar has not 'grown' yet. His voice is still kid-like and Type has fair idea why the pervert likes that voice.

Type grits his teeth, counts to three and walks after the troublesome temperamental, hormonal bag of a teen.

But, Type gets Tar.

It is not his fault... his body is on the verge of doing 'something'. How is it Tar's fault that his brain does not really know what this 'something' is?

"Why are you following me? I thought you did not care."

"I never said that."

"So, you care?" The teen stops and the hope in Tar's eyes breaks Type's heart in a bitter-sweet way.

"Of course, I do. I do not walk around fighting intruders and enemies if I do not care about the village and her people."

"Is that it?"

"Yes." Type says truthfully.

"Oh."

Okay, so it ends well. Type barely opens his mouth to ask the teen to follow him back to the safer part of the forest but...

... Tar started screaming bloody murder and cursing Type out.

"YOU LIKE ME!!! You always look at me and... and I know how love looks like. You love me and I love you. You are trying hard to get! You told Vinda that you like my smile. She told me. Like how Yant from the drama 'do not kill me kindly' tells Utina before he kills her... He loves her too much that he has to kill her because he is a psychopath. That is love. You... are a coward. That is why you are hiding. My Pa will love to know that you are my suitor..."

Tar has no plans to stop rambling any time soon.

Poor Type is so lost; how to deal with... with... Tar who is now walking around pointing fingers at him; his voice flickering between too high and too low.

Type has no idea who Vinda is but by the way Tar is describing, chances are the girl is his best friend.

And what the hell is about liking one's smile, loving and then killing.

What kind of drama does the kids watch these days?

"Tar..." Type calls gently when he hears some foreign voices.

"... then we will name our first child, Typaar. Type + Tar is Typaar. Vinda says it is perfect and I have written it on my..."

"Tar! Stop talking."

"... but no... you have to be so difficult. Today I showed you my nipples. Vinda said it would work a hundred percent but you turned your face the other away!"

Type glares at Tar and hisses him to shut up again but the teen is busy looking down his shirt to find if there is anything wrong with his nipples.

"... I think my left one is facing a bit down. Is it off putting? Is it? It is, isn't it? Oh my god! You do not like my nipples. Is that why you do not like me?"

Type groans when he surely hears rustling on the other side if only Tar would shut the f up!

He finally has enough and drags Tar to the nearby Yeroa tree; just in time a torque-rope flies past where Tar has been just standing.

The torque-rope is a beaded rope that would wind around the victims neck and legs, preventing them from running or calling for help.

"SHHH!"

This time Tar listens and Type looks around for the enemies.

His slowly takes off his palm on Tar's mouth when he knows they are at a safe distance from the intruders.

Type groans when he sees the lust swimming in the teen's eyes.

"For Ba's sake, Tar, we are in danger!"

"That was hot! Do you wanna do it again?"

This is exactly why Type does not want kids. They are so stupid and fragile; Type has no patience to deal with them!

"Tar, I want you to do something for me."

"Anything, P'Type..." Tar purrs. Type will deal with this behavior later.

"Run to the stream, get everyone back to the village. I have alerted the troops, follow the instructions, yeah?"

"Okay... I will."

"Good. Now, run along."

Tar nods and takes off running.

Type takes a relieved breathe because he honestly has thought Tar would not leave him with enemies, declaring his undying love towards the war hero.

Hmm...

Maybe he also should cut-short on teen drama series.

"P'Type?" Tar whispers on his ears and it is only because of his military training that Type could refrain from squeaking... or worse, scream; alerting the intruders.

"Tar!" Type exasperatedly yanks down Tar who is standing without a care in the world being an easy practice target for the enemy's arrows.

"Is that my nipples?"

Tar whines when Type drops his jaw and stares at him as if he is dead.

"Phi... please... I have to know."

"Tar! Seriously?! Now? Right now?!"

"But... please, my left nipple looks downwards!"

Are they seriously having this conversation, right this instant?

"Talk to me, Phi... is that why you do not like me?"

"No!!! Your nipples... there is nothing wrong with them, kid!!! Now run along and do as I say!"

He can handle himself but the teen will be in serious danger if he does not run away now. Now as in yesterday!

"So, you like them?"

"Tar!"

"You do not like them..." Tar whispers sadly. "It is because of my left..."

"Would you please stop with your 'left' already? It is fine. Both your nipples are fine! Leave them alone! Why are we having this conversation about your nipples again?!"

"Because there are enemies around us, duh!"

This kid!

Type glares.

"You are alone. They are many. You could die and I would not know why it did not work out between us."

"Thank you, Tar, for your vote of confidence." He replies dryly. The kid has his priorities right.

Type scratches his head in frustration.

"Your nipples are perfect. You are perfect. The decision is not about that. It is because you are young and I do not want to... be the one to break your heart when you are this young. Because I know I will and you do not deserve that from anyone, especially from an asshole like me. Go, Tar. Do not make me beg."

Tar stares at him, kisses his cheek and runs away this time.

Fuck!

Type hates talking about feelings.

Fuck again!

He has no idea where his enemies might be hiding. He has been too engrossed in the stupid conversation with the love-sick teen.

It takes more energy to bring up his magic when it is this bright and he groans when he understands the foreign aura around him is wizardry.

Shit!

Where is his back up?

The wizards are quite far.

Meaning the torque-rope is teleported. That means there is someone really powerful among the wizards and Type has an intuition who that powerful wizard is.

He sees Khabbas on the other side of his hiding spot and the relief is instantaneous.

"Khabbas!" Type rushes to him ensuring he has the defense of trees in case arrows start shooting up. "You are here! We need perimeter search. I can detect trace wizardry but they are too powerful. They are coming to us but in slow and steady pace. It is enough for us to disperse our army in a strategic way. I propose 'Needle-Twine' formation, seeing we have only limited back up."

Silence stretches too far and Type understands Khabbas has no plans to consider his words.

Screw this.

He has to let his army men know.

"They also have torque-ropes. We do not have much time."

Khabbas rolls his eyes.

"It is not for you to decide. They will have to cross the stream."

"Not if they can summon portals!" Type wants to shake Khabbas. "Listen to me... please... They have weapons and..."

"NOT FOR YOU TO DECIDE!"

Type remains silent.

"If they come here, it is only because of you!" Khabbas accuses.

"What do you mean?" Type scowls.

"Oh, so mighty Wizard Emperor Mew needs an audience. Right? That was the purpose of the drama you and lover boy Wolf did on us, right?"

"It was no drama! I refused and came back!"

Khabbas snorts and Type dishearteningly watches the distrust in his army men's eyes.

"Well guess what we have said; they can try and take you if they want!" Khabbas hisses and Type is dumbfounded.

"Wait... how they know I am here?!"

This time Khabbas averts his eyes off Type and stares at the forest with a sniff.

"Khabbas, how they know I am here? My last location was compromised but I am not there anymore. Nobody knows this is where I am deployed; even my parents."

"Wait for my orders. Assume your positions behind me." Khabbas ignores Type.

"Khabbas, how they..." Type tries again.

"Fine! I wrote the reply, alright? It is not like you do not want to go. You like Wizard dicks now, right?"

"Tell me you did not do that! What the hell were you thinking? You put the lives of innocents to see me struggle?" Type cannot help but ask.

He looks behind his army men who is now staring at either of them with bewildered eyes.

"Prove your loyalty, Commander Thiwat!" Khabbas snarls.

Type gulps. "You challenged the Wolf... do you have any idea what he is capable of? You risked the lives of these men who trusts you blindly, so you could get back to me?"

Type rubs the temples of his forehead.

"He is going to kill you all." Type whispers and he does not care how restless his battalion is feeling. "The villagers..." Type squeezes his eyes shut. "They are out in the open. The wizard army is not kind. What are we going to do?"

"This is my fight. You..." Khabbas starts again but this time nobody is listening to him.

"At least this time, we know what they are after. Me. That is good. I will trick them away from the village. You all, take cover. Do not engage in hand to hand combats. I know many of your magic will not work at this time of the day but try."

"We come with you, Commander." Uppith, a footman raises his hand. "If they are after you, you need back up."

"Not this time. He is ruthless and psychotic. I want you back in village. Do not let wizards in; that is it. Rest leave it to me."

Painful screams can be heard even in the middle of this thick forest.

The battle has started.

"They are here. They will not stop until they get what they want. So... get the cover. I am going in."

Type takes a deep breath and runs towards the scream. He can stop the Wolf if he can reason with the man.

"I can come with you." Khabbas mumbles and Type stops his running to glare up at the man on the tree who seems to be following him.

"Khabbas, I will never trust you with the water you give it to me. I trust my enemies to stab me from my front but with you... I do not even know that. You are not a comrade of me."

Type does not care how the man looks remorseful and ashamed.

As expected, many villagers are bound and weeping; kneeling on the ground. None of them are wounded or hurt; but cannot say the same for his army men.

"Ah... I knew their screams would make you come running." The Wolf smirks behind his mask. "I was invited with a challenge. Do I not receive any, Commander Thiwat?"

Tharn blinks when black ash starts flying into his eyes and he is blind for a few moments.

He has to smile when he hears Thiwat helping his people to escape. He is too adorable for his own good.

Tharn does not need eyes to see, but he will let this pass and waits until his eyes clears up.

"If you wanted to meet me alone, darling, you could have just said the words." Tharn teases and Thiwat boils in anger.

"The treaty states Wizards will not enter our village premise without permission."

Tharn smirks taking a scroll, extending it to Commander Thiwat. "Or invitation. If you people do not want us here, then do not ask us to come."

Tharn loves seeing Thiwat helpless; stokes his ego, Tharn is not shy to admit.

"This is a misunderstanding. I am not a sack of potatoes to be done as a transaction. I have told you, I am not coming anywhere."

"Aww... don't be like that, darl..."

"THIWAT!" Commander Thiwat hates being called darling.

"Oops... Thiwat. You cannot turn down the invitation from the Emperor."

"He is not my Emperor!"

The playfulness in the Wolf's eyes fades and in place, Thiwat can see the ruthless killer he is.

"You are coming. You can either come as the Emperor's guest or as my prisoner."

"Or you can go back to your 'Emperor' as a failure, tails tucked behind your legs." Thiwat snarls before casting a spell and disappearing from his eyes.

"Thought necromancers were weak during the day." Max mumbles to Tharn who glares at the air where Thiwat has been standing.

"I always underestimate him." Tharn replies sighing, casting the counter spell and following the necromancer.

Type has the perfect plan to ditch the Wolf and his pack.

The necromancy temples are off charts. The wizards are forbidden from entering the temples, no matter the reason.

He can reach the temple in time; regroup with his army and decide how to get rid of the Wolf from coming after him ever again.

Get rid of him forever; that is what he meant. The thought has come out wrong for whatever reason.

He feels the Wolf following him but that is impossible. It is his invisibility spell and the traces of this spell are so feeble for...

For anyone except the Wolf... right!

Spells after spells Thiwat throws but it only let the Wolf to sniff him out.

Great!

Maybe he should stop underestimating the Wolf. Maybe there is someone who can beat him in his own game.

Type Thiwat sprints harder when the temples come to the view and he is more than happy to see the villagers are already inside.

Only a few army men remained who are in a line for their entrance.

He makes the line, worriedly looking back.

"Skip the procedures, the wolf pack is close behind. Everyone get in." Type breathlessly says.

"I am in the position to give out the orders." Khabbas replies without looking at him.

"They will reach here in less than five cros-moments. That is not too much time." Type is this close to losing his composure.

"People who do not want to follow temple procedures can always go wherever they want. Think of consequences, what if a wizard sneaks past into the temples of Ba?"

Anyone with minimum intelligence would know, that would only put that wizard in more vulnerable position but Type does not say a thing.

This is not even about wizards.

He knows they are in huge trouble even before the alarms go off. The wizards have reached the temple premises.

Type has no more energy to roll his eyes at the surprised look of Khabbas.

"Type, you get in first!" Khabbas yells.

Type is done. He does not know why he even cares.

He takes a deep breath before turning around and sees the Wolf yards away who is now smiling. Type is sure this victory tasted sweet on the man's lips.

Type jumps down from the temple entrance to the ground smoothly. "Wolf, you are not welcome here."

"I have the history of getting into unwelcome places but so do you."

Type gets the jab.

If Wolf knows Type Thiwat is the White Tiger then he also knows he has sneaked into the wizard temples without permission.

Type does not know how to proceed.

He looks back and gets scared when he sees some women and children on the other side of the temple who are waiting to get their entry approved.

Stupid Khabbas!!!

The Wolf follows his line of sight and smiles. "How about an exchange? You come with me and I spare their lives."

Shiya...

He does the only thing that comes to his mind. He casts another spell and the Wolf looks stunned.

"The rule of Byoon-Galos states that you cannot take a civilian woman prisoner without a direct decree from the female enforcers."

Tharn scowls at the parade of beautiful village women who stand in the place of Type.

What sorcery is this?

Tharn has seen similar but all that times, the faces have been the same but here, each one of them is unique.

It irks the Wolf when the women come out of their hiding and stands with the new projections of women and the count is increasing.

"What do we do? Which one of them is Commander Thiwat?"

Tharn glares at each one of them but they are all of different sizes, shapes and age.

How will he pin Thiwat who has changed to a woman?

"You cannot arrest all of us, Wolf."

"It will cause a war, Wolf."

"Do you want the repetition of history, Wolf?"

The voices resonates throughout the forest and Tharn blinks.

He tries some petty magic tricks to scare these projections, hoping to see his stoic beauty but they all scream and run around as if truly afraid.

Woman Thiwat screams as well somewhere and Tharn has to chuckle.

It is easy to prove when someone is mimicking courage but how to prove someone is not really scared.

Tharn wipes his face with a smile.

"Commander Thiwat... you make this all... amusing and fun." Tharn means it too. "But I have to find you. Can we drop this?"

Silence meets his request and Tharn sighs.

"Hard way it is."

It is 'easy' for his men to 'capture' these 'women' and kneel them in front of him.

Thiwat has eyes for details; Tharn has to give him that.

Some of the women - though they are casted projections - are submissive, some are dominant.

Some shy away from his eyes while some glare throughout the ordeal.

At first, Tharn thinks of eliminating all the dominant ones. Thiwat is no shy flower; he would glare at Tharn. So, someone smart would mimic a shy one.

But someone as extra-smart as Thiwat would know that Tharn would think like this and would behave as dominant one.

Goddess, the mess!

Tharn is... at lose here and he does not like to admit that.

He is the one who comes up with the solutions, how absurd the situation it might be.

But here he is, staring at a mass of beautiful women - who are basically the projections of Thiwat's spell, some real women who have stood up for their beloved commander and of course his adorable necromancer who has shapeshifted to a woman himself.

Tharn has never seen such a phenomenon before.

Hmmm...

What a mess, indeed!

"Commander Thiwat, do you think I would not hurt them? I can, you know."

Nothing.

Nada.

"What do we do, Chief?" Max stands next to Tharn, confused as hell. "We cannot make them pass them through the Ring of Mage. It would kill non-mages and the projections will be shown as mages. So, it is of no good. He got us this time."

Tharn thinks so too.

He has bluffed. Tharn cannot hurt these women, knowing they are vulnerable. If it were a fair fight, then it would be another story.

He walks to the kneeling people, slowly lifting each face and trying to find something that would make his necromancer stand out.

And he is sad when he cannot identify Thiwat anymore. It unsettles him more that he can accept.

None of the projections or the real women flinches when Tharn's cold fingers brush their faces.

Commander Thiwat is the best spell caster he has ever met... he might be stronger than Tharn himself.

A worthy opponent at last.

But Thiwat is not an opponent... at least not according to Emperor Mew; his father.

He is a guest.

Tharn almost moves past another beautiful woman but something about 'her' is calling out.

The eyes!

Again.

Tharn checks and the person next to this woman also has similar eyes but the shine, the depth... it is all different.

Tharn does not know how long he stares at those shiny stars that is unnervingly staring at him before twisting the face away in shyness.

So, different from the Thiwat he knows but...

"All the others can go. This one stays with me." Tharn declares and the mass of beauties disperse.

The woman Tharn has picked stands up and glares at him but Tharn smiles.

"You will make a fool out of yourself if it is not him." Another woman shouts as they are made to leave by Max.

"Thiwat has already made me a fool several times." Tharn smiles.

And to the surprise of his own army men and the necromancers', the Wolf drops his weapons at the woman's feet.

"Both of our species are suffering, especially common people. More yours than ours." Tharn stares at the intensely grey eyes. "Emperor Mew does not want this tug to drag for another generations to come. We have... made certain mistakes which we want to amend."

The woman remains stoic, not even giving away a clue if she is Thiwat or not.

"As one of the most honorable commanders of the necromancer armies, the former Srishtar Commander of yours, Taapith suggested to find you - I mean Commander Thiwat - right before his death. That is why we are really here. It would literally mean a world of change for either of us; wizards and necromancers, if you choose to come."

The woman has shown no interest in shifting back to the necromancer Tharn knows.

"We cannot disclose this information to anyone else because we believe and has proof that many of necromancers are working with some of the wizards to overthrow Emperor Mew's crown by assassinating him."

Tharn pauses.

"My ways make the matter worse. I have extended my side of trust. And I request you to please come with us. That is the only way I can ensure your safety. Kindly consider my request."

"You are awfully confident that I am Commander Thiwat." The woman states and Tharn nods. "You could be wrong."

"Am I?" Tharn asks.

The woman looks back to her company and waves a hand. The projections fade and the remaining women are real women who have come to his rescue.

Thiwat is touched.

"Please get home safely. I have... some business with the Wolf."

Tharn is so proud of himself when the woman shifts back to Commander Thiwat.

"If you are lying, I will make you pay, Wolf."

Tharn bows, accepting the threat with grace.

"We have a carriage for you outside your territory. You will have to walk with me... us, I mean... I will be honest, the carriage is made of Kolmer Stone and it will drain your magic. My plan was to capture you and make you surrender. I hope our way of transportation is enough for you and think of no ill of our purpose."

Thiwat glares at him but finally nods. "As long as you do not use wizard portals, I will be fine."

"Without portals it will be a long journey. It could take days." Tharn frowns.

"Then we better start our journey as early as possible, right, Wolf?" And Thiwat starts walking ahead of the Wolf's pack without a care.

Tharn is... enthralled and follows the necromancer.

"How did you know it was him?" Max asks his brother.

"The eyes." Tharn mumbles.

Type Thiwat looks back at him with the same intense grey eyes that tugged at his heart before leading the Wolf pack.

"What is so special about his eyes? Half the necromancer population has grey eyes."

Except no other grey eyes make his heart beat so faster, that Tharn wonders if he is going to faint.

"Yo, Wolf, you coming?" Commander Thiwat asks him, losing patience over the stalling.

"Yes. After you."